


Down the Rabbit Hole

by carolion



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Gen, Gen Fic, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 16:39:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolion/pseuds/carolion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes David wonders if he's ruining Archie. (Fic train fill. Prompt: Cook explains what being drunk is like.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down the Rabbit Hole

Dave always got a little tense when Archie came to hang out with him and the rest of the guys. Not because they didn't get along with Archie, no, they seemed to like him just fine, and were nice to him in their own way. And Archie was only a _little shy_ with them now, much more comfortable with them than he had been the first three or four times he'd met Dave's bandmates. It was just - Archie lived in this bubble, right? This perfect, clear, _pure_ bubble, where he thought the best of everyone, and he wasn't dirtied by the outside world. Innocent - even years later, Archie still had this aura of innocence (though Cook knew he wasn't completely naive, and he certainly wasn't as innocent as he'd been on Idol - he wasn't the only one who had noticed how tight Archie's pants were now, right?) and Dave's friends? Were kind of the _opposite_ of innocent. 

They just - they forgot that Archie wasn't 'one of the guys' (and even as Dave thought that, he cringed because, well, it was patronizing of him to box Archie up like that) and started talking and telling stories without thinking about the content, without noticing the way Archie's eyes got wider, and wider, until he blushed and winced and looked down at his hands shyly. He just didn't like making Archie feel like an outsider, that's all, and he wished Andy and Neal didn't have _quite_ so much dirt on him - it only made the experience that much more uncomfortable. 

"And _then_ ," Andy said, laughter already evident in his voice, "Dave stands up, completely out of the blue, and walks towards this girl. Totally weaving and wobbling all over the place, drunk off his ass, and gets right up in her face, right in her personal space. And she's all 'Uh, can I help you?' and he just stares at her and then he points her shirt and says 'That's an octopus.'" Andy paused, grinning. Archie was already a little pink, but his eyes were smiling and his mouth was curled up shyly. Dave glanced nervously at him, because he _knew_ how this story went, and it wasn't exactly - flattering. 

"Oh c'mon Andy," he tried to interrupt, "you really don't have to-"

"Oh yes I do," Andy said, smirking. "So anyway," he continued, "he's like, 'that's an octopus' because she had some weird t-shirt on, and she's all 'uh, yeah? so?' because clearly he's a creepy drunk guy hitting on her, and Dave just - man he was wasted - he just _puts his hands on her chest_ , right on her boobs, and squeezes, like, _honking_ them and says 'I like octopuses!'" Andy was cracking up, as were most of the others. "The look on her face was priceless. She flipped, slapped him a good one, and sent him reeling back our direction with a red hand print on the side of his face. I thought I was going to pass out from laughing so much." 

Dave groaned and slumped over his beer, fiddling with the bottle. It wasn't _that_ funny. He darted a glance at Archie, who was blushing hard and biting his bottom lip, clearly unsure of what to do or say. 

"That's why you don't get shitfaced," Neal interjected, pointing at Dave, and then to Archie, "right Archuleta?" 

"Because you're such a shining example of that rule," Dave said, rolling his eyes at Neal.

"Well millions of tweeny fangirls don't look up to _me_ ," Neal scoffed.

Archie squeaked. "I would never-!" 

"Oh relax, boy wonder," Neal drawled, ruffling Archie's hair fondly. "I know you've got an image to uphold. I'm not that interested in corrupting you, despite what Dave may think."

Dave scowled - damn Neal! - but let it slide. Archie just giggled a little, still looking confused and a little scandalized at the idea of getting drunk, and Dave just sighed.

The rest of the night went without a hitch, and Dave began to kick people out of his house when Archie started to list sleepily against his side on the couch, his soft humming a gentle melody that soothed Dave's headache and gave him reason to shoo Neal upstairs and let Archie snuggle into the throw pillows on their couch. When the house was finally quiet, he returned the living room, ready to either drive Archie home or call him a cab, depending on how awake he was. He found Archie sitting up, looking sleepy, but still awake. 

He was about to ask Archie if he was ready to go home or not when Archie smiled at him and spoke first.

"Cook," he started, a little hesitantly. "What's it - um, what's it like to be drunk?" His voice was curious and hopeful and shy all at the same time, and Dave knew how much he wanted to know if he had actually asked about it out loud.

Dave sat down next to him on the couch, reclining into the cushions as he thought. "Why do you want to know?" 

Archie flushed, predictably. "I just - I'm never going to do it, you know, and I don't know _why_ people do it, and it just... I want to know. What it feels like. Is that - okay?" 

Dave felt like an asshole. "Of course it's okay, I'm sorry. Here, it's -" he tilted his head back a little and stared at the ceiling, squinting a little and trying to put it into words. "I think it's kind of different for everyone. You know, you've got your happy drunks, your sad drunks, your angry drunks - everyone kind of reacts a little differently. And I'm sure you've heard alcohol lowers your inhibitions and screws with your reaction time and all that, right?" 

Archie nodded, frowning. "That's doesn't really tell me what it _feels_ like though," he insisted. 

"Everything goes a little soft," Dave said, looking at Archie, "not fuzzy, exactly, just - like every sharp corner is rounded, you know? And for me - I'm a happy drunk." He smiled. "Everything seems really awesome, and I always feel the need to tell everyone or anyone around me exactly what I'm thinking, and usually I'm thinking something _dumb_. And I always want to touch everything. I don't know why. I just get really affectionate and tactile and my thoughts feel like they're sliding around in my brain." He paused.

Archie nodded slowly. "What else? What happens next?" 

Dave raised an eyebrow. "Well, if you get too drunk - standing is hard. And walking, and talking, and that's when things feel more muggy and dizzy. And eventually you start feeling sick, and claustrophobic, and also clingy, and needy, and then you puke." Dave grinned a little at Archie's disgusted face. 

"Why would anyone want to do that?" Archie asked. It's an innocent question - just like Archie's questions always are, without guile or ulterior motive. 

"I don't know Archie, to feel things, I guess. To feel _new_ things, or let themselves go when they wouldn't usually, for fun, for sorrow - there are a lot of reasons. It's more about the person drinking than the drinking itself, I think," Dave said, and looked at Archie, searching his expression. "You don't feel left out, do you?" He asked, and he knew Archie would understand what he meant, that he was asking if Archie felt left out among Dave's friends, who all drank and who sometimes smoked and swore and told rude jokes. It wasn't Archie's usual scene - but Dave didn't know if it made Archie unhappy - he didn't think it did, but still, his anxiety made his stomach clench up painfully.

"No, not really. I'm just," he paused a little, smiling, "different. I know that." Then Archie yawned, big and wide and he slapped a hand over his mouth, embarrassed. "I'm sorry!" 

Dave laughed and stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll drive you home," he offered, and grinned down at Archie. "I don't want you to fall asleep in a cab and run your tab up," he teased. 

Archie flushed. "Oh shut up," he mumbled, but he _did_ fall asleep in Dave's car as he drove him home, and Dave did sit there for a few minutes after arriving at Archie's hotel, idling the engine as he watched Archie sleep blissfully unaware of the thoughts banging around in Dave's head.

He didn't know if he was ruining Archie or not - he didn't know if exposing him to his lifestyle was good or bad. All he knew was he didn't want to give this up, Archie that was, or his shy smiles, or his curious questions, or the weight of his tired head resting against Dave's shoulder. He liked watching Archie flush pink when Neal told an unsavory joke, even if it did make him feel a little guilty, and he was glad that Archie trusted him enough to ask. It was complicated though - they were like oil and water, but Dave would never stop trying to mix them. And he didn't know why he tried so hard with Archie - plenty of other people would have just let it go. Just because they'd been on American Idol together, just because they were shoved in that situation together, it didn't mean anything. It would have been easy to move on and let Archie lead his own, different life. 

But Dave couldn't stay away. And he didn't know which one of them was going to be the one to break.


End file.
